


A Warm Touch, A Kind Word, and An Hour's Quiet Company

by liketolaugh



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Autistic Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Bad Parent Amanda (Detroit: Become Human), Comfort No Hurt, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Soft Markus (Detroit: Become Human)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:08:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26840413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liketolaugh/pseuds/liketolaugh
Summary: A quiet moment of comfort between Connor's promise to invade Cyberlife Tower, and the act itself.Markus just wants to make sure his people feel safe.
Relationships: Connor/Markus (Detroit: Become Human)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 212





	A Warm Touch, A Kind Word, and An Hour's Quiet Company

Eventually, Markus found Connor hiding in the confessional with the door cracked.

Markus didn’t know when Connor had moved there; he had just turned around and Connor was gone. It had taken twenty minutes of increasingly anxious searching before Markus had finally unearthed him, tucked into a corner of the building, out of sight and out of mind, looking the most relaxed Markus had seen him so far.

It felt symbolic.

Guarded brown eyes fixed on Markus the moment he looked through the gap in the door, but he didn’t rise from his place curled up on the bench, knees clasped to his chest. His fingers twitched, just within Markus’ sight, but he didn’t otherwise move, aside from the slight sway his whole body held, slow and hypnotic, back and forth. Like a pendulum.

Markus smiled at him gently, hiding his stirrings of unease with increasing practice. “Here you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

“…Sorry,” Connor said quietly, and pressed his chin between his knees without taking his eyes off Markus, rocking softly. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

“You didn’t,” Markus assured him immediately, studying Connor with some curiosity.

He hadn’t really had time to linger over the matter before now, but to a certain extent, he’d wondered all along what the life of the deviant hunter was like. If he was like Markus, a pretty bird in a gilded cage. Or perhaps another creature altogether, filled with brittle pride or resentment.

…He looked small, in real clothing instead of the Cyberlife suit he’d been televised in, the beanie he’d never taken off. Or maybe it was the wary look on his face that made Connor look so hurt.

He looked like he’d retreated to lick his wounds before he made his final stand in Cyberlife Tower.

Markus wanted to comfort him. He’d wanted to comfort him since Connor had first set foot in front of him, as soon as he’d looked past that hollow gun to the torn and tormented face behind it, the very faint tremble of his hands.

Maybe it was just the caretaker android in him. But Markus didn’t think so. He liked to think that that was always going to be part of his personality.

Connor tightened his arms around his legs without taking his eyes off Markus and cocked his head. “Did you need something, Markus? It’ll be a while before I can set out for the tower. I’m sure I can be of use before then.”

Markus shook his head immediately, and tried not to wince when Connor immediately deflated, looking melancholy. “Nothing like that. Can I come in? It’s a bit awkward talking through a crack in the door.”

Connor blinked at him, and then shrank deeper into the corner and nodded silently.

Without giving either of them a chance to have second thoughts about it, Markus stepped inside and sat on the other end of the confessional bench, giving Connor as much room as possible. He left the door open, and knew he’d made the right choice when Connor gave it a fleeting glance before returning his attention to Markus.

He looked… soft. Markus hadn’t expected the deviant hunter to look soft. He supposed appearances could be deceptive.

“…Do you want me to leave early?” Connor asked eventually, when Markus failed to start the conversation. “I suppose my presence could be disruptive.”

Markus startled, eyes jumping from his distracted examination of Connor’s flexing hands back to his face. He was still rocking, a slow sort of self-soothing motion, much more restrained now that Markus was taking up some of the room on the bench.

“Nothing like that,” Markus said hastily, and almost reached out before he thought better of it. “No, I was… worried.”

Connor blinked at him. “I’m not going to hurt anyone. I promise,” he said earnestly, and Markus’ heart broke in a way he didn’t know it could, not like this.

“I know, Connor,” he said gently. “I’m worried about _you.”_

Connor stared at him, and then, comically, looked down at his own body, and then back up, and cocked his head. “I’m not hurt.”

 _Oh Connor,_ Markus thought anxiously, _you are **so** hurt._

But he couldn’t say that, of course. Connor probably wasn’t even in a state to understand, right now. Hell, Markus had only barely started to reach that point himself.

He cut that train of thought before it could wander too far. “You’re going on a very dangerous mission soon,” he said instead, keeping steady eye contact with Connor, who looked almost transfixed in turn. “I wanted to check how you were doing with that. Emotions are still new to you, after all.”

Connor withdrew instantly, somehow forming an even tighter ball to rock with. “I’m not going to back out.”

“I know,” Markus soothed patiently. “But I was worried you were scared.”

Connor’s gaze, which had dropped to the ground, lifted back to Markus’, unmistakable confused. He opened his mouth, and then closed it again. And then he said, “Does that matter?”

Markus had to stop himself from swallowing; he thought that Connor would notice.

“It matters here,” he said instead. “I think that, if you’re scared, you deserve to be comforted.” He smiled, faint and self-deprecating. “I’ve been getting a lot of practice at that lately.”

The first fifteen hours of their time at the church had been dedicated almost exclusively to that; it was why it had taken so long to deal with Connor in the first place. The week’s events had been hard on everybody.

“You seem good at it,” Connor said quietly, and then closed his eyes, rested his cheek on his knee, and added, “But I’m not scared.”

He was still rocking. He hadn’t relaxed since Markus had sat beside him.

Markus thought, randomly, about some of the YK models he’d spoken to – the ones who still had trouble understanding why their owners hadn’t loved them. Who had learned to accept pain as the price of affection, and hadn’t forgotten that even when they finally learned enough to leave.

“Alright,” Markus said at last, soft and gentle. “But it’s okay if you are. Just in case, is it alright if I hug you?”

Connor opened his eyes, suddenly shadowed with mistrust, and studied Markus for a long moment before he shook his head silently. Markus bit his cheek, considering the other, because at the same time, Connor had rocked just a little closer to Markus before just as quickly pulling away.

Markus wondered if he was being tested. He held out one hand, exactly halfway between them, placid and unthreatening.

“Then what if I just hold your hand?” he suggested.

Connor stared at the offered hand like it was an alien appendage. He glanced up at Markus fleetingly, and then looked back down, wide-eyed and befuddled.

“Oh… okay?” Connor stammered helplessly. He reached out, faltered, hesitated for a few moments, and then finally closed the distance, wrapping his fingers together with Markus’.

His touch was feather-light at first, like he was terrified of gripping Markus’ hands too hard, like he thought Markus’ skin would burn him. Markus waited patiently, dropping his gaze to their clasped hands, and absently followed the just-visible back-and-forth of Connor’s knee.

It was easy for Markus to get used to physical affection with Carl. Not even because Carl was particularly affectionate, but just because his job required it – carrying Carl, dressing him, helping him bathe. Skin contact was habitual and near-constant.

It made him… relatively unique.

Finally, just as Markus was preparing himself to pull away and apologize, Connor… melted. Relaxed against the wall he was leaning on, brown eyes still fixed on their clasped hands, where his grip tightened subtly, becoming firmer.

“That’s nice,” Connor said softly without looking up, voice tight with restrained feeling.

Markus found it in himself to smile, starting to stroke the back of Connor’s hand with his thumb. Connor let out a sound that was something like a whimper, but it cut off before Markus could be sure. “I like to think it’s the most basic form of comfort, to know another person is with you. You seemed like you needed it.”

“Oh.” Connor seemed lost, just staring at their clasped hands unwaveringly, and Markus let the silence lie, smiling slightly. Gradually, the tension drained out of Connor’s body until he looked almost sleepy, dozing against the wall of the confessional.

Markus thought, absently, that he looked rather cute like that.

Then, suddenly, Connor looked up, eyes sharp and considering. Markus almost jumped, and instead just raised his eyebrows, puzzled by Connor’s intensity.

“Do you want a hug?” Connor asked, abrupt and without preamble. Markus’ mouth opened, and closed. Connor glanced away and explained rapidly, visibly uncomfortable, “Tomorrow is risky for you as well. Are you, I mean…” He trailed off, but Markus got the idea and swallowed.

Tomorrow, they would succeed or they would die. And the odds of success were not incredible.

“Yes,” he managed after a minute, mortified by the hoarseness of his own voice.

Somehow, he was still surprised when Connor leaned forward, quick and unprompted, and wrapped his arms around Markus. It was as feather-light as the initial touch of his hand, and his head tucked into the crook of Markus’ neck for only the space of a breath, the angle awkward and uncomfortable, before he was leaning back again, shrinking into the corner of the little confessional.

He was still holding Markus’ hand.

Markus didn’t fool himself into thinking Connor really didn’t notice when he reached up and wiped the beading tears out of his eyes with his free hand, but he was grateful for the pretense anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this one sketched out for a hot minute, but I'm glad to finally get it out! Took me like three tries, lmao.
> 
> Thank you to Nolf, who helped put this together <3


End file.
